As we each go through the stages of our lives, we change. Or at least we should I think. Hopefully we learn, we incorporate our lessons and we do things a wee bit differently when confronted with our next set of learning.
The people who are a part of your life when you are going through a difficult time, will more than likely see a different side of you than someone years later when your life is running smoothly. It is those ebbs and flows, those mountains of poverty or despair that can give us the learning to appreciate the quieter, more tranquil times.
This story could be about you, this story could be about me.
I met someone the other day whom I had not seen in many years. As a young woman she was abrasive, short-tempered and always angry. She looked older (as we all do as the years go by), but the moment she opened her mouth, I felt dread at what had not changed.
She had absorbed her unhappiness with the world in spite of wearing expensive tailored clothing and what appeared to be real diamonds. But when she spoke I realized that she was determined to remain the small thinking, deceitful person she had been when we were both young years ago.
Oh yes, there was a specific incident. I’ve locked it away because it hurt and I hadn’t thought about it in years until I saw her face again.
“Oh darling” she gushed as she approached. And in my mind I thought to myself “we were never that close…sweetheart”. Oh how I remembered her disdainful look at the quality of anyone else's contributions, whether it was cupcakes or ideas. How dismal to know that her superficial cheek-kiss was her attempt to continue to spread her glow. How I rankled at her touch, how I wanted to tell her off.
But once again, being raised to be polite got the better of me. Some stories don’t need to be spoken.
Class, my mother used to say, cannot be bought.